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seresinhangmanjake · 6 months

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The One I Want: Part 2

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Warnings: Judgment related to weight. Cursing. Fluff. Angst. Eventual smut (alluded to/or other). Self-esteem issues.

Words: 2010

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He shakes his head, like clearing the fog from his brain, and steps forward. “I’m Jake,” he says, reaching his hand out toward you.

It’s done in such a casually confident manner that it dares you to take a step back, out of his reach and far from his influence. You take his hand anyway.

His palm against yours creates a slight buzzing sensation at your fingertips making you pull your hand away and tighten it into a fist before tucking it behind your back. “That makes more sense than the pretty brunette.”

“Oh, don’t flatter her. She’s not that great,” he says. There’s a light chuckle as he slips his hands into his front pockets. On any other man, you’d acknowledge the hint of nerves accompanying the action, but with this man in particular you brush it off. There is no way this man has ever been nervous a day in his life. “I’m surprised you’re up. Are you okay with your room?”

You glance down at the suitcase not far from where you stand. “I didn’t look for it. Seemed like snooping.”

“Oh, shit. That’s my fault.” Hand flying out of his pocket, he runs it down his face again. He blows out a breath that feels like some form of self-scolding for letting himself neglect you, then bends down to wrap his fingers around the handle of your suitcase. “You can come with me.”

The apartment, while nice, isn’t overly large. The door to what you learn is your room can be seen from your first few steps through the front entryway, but still, you’re glad you didn’t peek on your own. You could’ve found yourself face-to-face with his private space and unable to avoid developing opinions of him based on the first-glance contents of his room.

With a turn and a push, Jake opens your door and stands back against one side of the frame so you can enter. Side-stepping past him, though, is a bit of a squeeze and you can’t help the way your breasts brush across his chest. You don’t miss his flinch and the sharp intake of air through his nose.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

Whether or not he heard you goes unknown as he sets your suitcase down once you’re inside the room and begins his mini tour. “Um, bed,” comes out a little gritty. He points to the largest piece of furniture in the room like you’re a two-year-old learning the names of basic household items. With a cough to clear his throat, he continues. “That door over there is the closet,” he points some more. “And that one’s the bathroom. It’s small, but I hope it’ll be alright for you.”

There’s a pang in your stomach from his last two words. For you. An unnecessary addition with so much power. Power you refuse to let yourself dwell on.

“It’ll be fine, thanks.”

“Right, well I’ll, uh–” Those eyes do their scanning of you again. Lips, breasts, hips. Blink and you would’ve missed it. “I’ll let you get some sleep,” he says. "It's nice to meet you."

You would say the same, but he’s gone before you get the chance. Shutting the door behind him, you toss your suitcase onto the bed and begin to unpack.

—

The funny thing about these towns—while each one is different from another in appearance and people, they always reveal themselves to share a core component. Your willingness to stay put, and for how long, lies with this component. It is a matter of how intense this component—this judgment—is, and whether or not it infects enough around you to transform everything into a reminder of why you do not belong. While many things have the potential to prove you right or wrong as far as the degree to which you might be judged, what remains a constant disappointment is your attempts to obtain a job.

It doesn’t matter where you look. You get the same once-over, the same raised brow, the same unspoken questions lingering in the air. Are you lost? Did you stumble through the wrong door?

In one day you’ve been turned down by three jobs with ‘help wanted’ signs stuck on the inside of their building’s front window. What’s worse is that, in following typical company policy, they don’t shoo you away at the door. They take your resume, they sit you down, ask you a host of questions, and eventually declare you’re not right for the position.

A restaurant manager did not see you fit for a waitress. Neither did a cafe owner find you capable as a barista. The most painful, however, was also the riskiest. The head of the sales floor at the lingerie boutique who seemed to think women of a certain size aren’t in need of lacy fabrics that accentuate their best bits and pieces because surely they don’t have sex.

That was the one that did you in for the day and now has you moseying back to the apartment.

You walk through the door and shed yourself of jacket, purse, and shoes, likely looking as exhausted as your new roommate did when you first laid eyes on him the night before. You knew you recognized something in the weariness of his eyes. While unexpected, last night Jake Seresin was tired because someone—or many someones—had worn him out.

“Hi.”

You jolt upright, head instinctually turning toward the voice. You’re not used to sharing your space, and obviously so since Jake immediately raises his hands in silent apology for startling you.

“Hi,” you reply, the word riding on the sigh that passes through your lips.

With as much as you can muster for him, you offer a smile before aiming for your bedroom. But you don’t get far.

“What have you been up to all day?” he asks, halting you.

He’s not going to let you go, you realize, not without giving him something in return. Though, seeing as he’s your new roommate who took you in on short notice and charges you pennies to stay, you figure you can oblige.

He’s sitting at the island in the kitchen, now with a beer in one hand and his phone in the other. His thumb taps away at the screen, but when you near him he quickly sets it down to offer you his full attention. It’s then that you notice his missing shirt. Your mind must have filled in that blank. You’d assumed some sort of tank top was hidden by the angle at which he sat when you entered the apartment; that the fabric’s color was not so different from the tone of his skin. Looking at him in his bareness now, you can’t ignore how ridiculous that thought was.

You also can’t ignore him; sitting there without shame, practically taunting you to run your eyes over every ridge and valley of his sculpted form. And it is sculpted. Artwork.

But you don’t allow yourself the luxury. Instead, you answer, “Looking for a job.”

Jake sits a little straighter. “I can probably help with that,” he says. “I’ve got a friend who owns a bar down the street, and–”

“No!” you snap. The hope that it wasn’t as harsh as it sounded is snuffed out by the slight widening of his eyes. “Thank you,” is softer, “but no bars.”

He watches you a moment longer before he nods and repeats, “No bars. Got it.” Another moment of silence fills the room until he breaks it. “I’ll ask around.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out.” You wave away the thought and shake your head, aiming to get off the topic. Solidifying that is your immediate shift onto him. He seems like a guy who probably enjoys talking about himself, anyway. “So, you don’t fly on the weekend?”

“Not unless I have to.”

“Have people stopped traveling on Saturdays?”

Blond brows pinch as he twists the beer bottle in absent-minded circles with his fingertips. “What?”

Crossing your arms, you step further into the kitchen until your stomach is resting against the edge of the island. “Your friend said you’re a pilot. I just figured you’d be working a lot.”

Jake’s face doesn’t change; still the epitome of confusion, and you don’t know how to fill the painfully long beats while he examines you. Why you let him examine you must be a slip of the conscious mind, but you keep still. Then his face settles. He takes a sip of his beer, sets it down, and, instead of simply looking at you, stares hard into your eyes.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Wh–” you pause, readjusting your stance. “What makes you think that?”

“Anyone who says ‘pilot’ in this town—or frankly, even close by—assumes Navy, not airline,” he says. If he’s insulted, it doesn’t show. “I’m far from some Delta guy.”

Internally you curse. That err in knowledge peels back a layer of your paint, inviting curiosity and questions. And by the gleam in Jake’s eye, you’re sure you’re going to get plenty. “You’re in the Navy.”

“I am,” he confirms with a single nod. “And most people here have ties to it in some way. But not you, it seems.”

You fidget in the gap between his statements.

“So, where exactly did you come from,” he continues, a wry smile stretching his lips, “And how did you end up here of all places?”

When you meet his stare, you don’t care for the sparkle peeking through. “I drove.”

His head throws back in laughter. “That’s all I get?”

“That’s all you need,” you stress. It’s his own fault for not asking those questions following your email answering his ad. He had an opportunity. He didn’t take it. That’s not your problem. And the longer you stand here, clearly providing him with entertainment, you're once again struck with the desperation to get his attention off of you.

Without much to grasp, you go for the obvious. You allow your eyes to trail downwards and morph your features into a forced grimace. “Don’t you wear clothes?”

“Oh.” Looking down at himself, a gulp bulges his throat. “My bad. It’s been a while since I’ve had to wear a shirt around the place.” Is that disappointment in his tone? Maybe. Who in the world wouldn’t be insulted at the request to put on more clothes instead of removing an additional article? You certainly have been, so who is to say Jake Seresin—who undoubtedly has never faced such a request—wouldn’t feel the same?

To your surprise, he hops up immediately and rounds the island for his room; a move you would appreciate much more if it didn’t reveal the gray sweatpants settled low on his hips. There’s a defined V and a line of hair that disappears below the waistband. You hate that V. You hate that dusting of hair, blonder against his tan skin. Men with Vs and an irritatingly perfect amount of hair there are trouble. Each and every one of them.

“I’ll go get that shirt. Don’t go anywhere.”

For whatever reason—one you’re unwilling to dissect—you do as he asks. But then a light flashes in your peripheral vision. The screen of his phone in response to a new message.

You don’t want to look, not really, but you can’t help yourself. Years of people whispering behind your back, sneaking glances, chuckling, has planted the evergrowing seed of paranoia. Inching closer to the phone, you tap the rectangular block on his screen that reads Nat. Though the phone is locked, the notification expands to reveal the full message.

See, Paranoid is an interesting label. It accuses you of misunderstanding, of being too suspicious, too anxious, or even crazy; and you won’t deny you’ve probably been wrong before, assuming people are talking about you who haven’t spared you a thought. But sometimes, that label is unfair. Sometimes—often, in fact—you are right.

And when you read ‘Not what you expected, is she?’ followed by a tiny smirking face, you know this is one of those times.

---

A/N: I hope you liked it! If there are typos blame that on my anxiety. I've got a life-defining procedure tomorrow so wish me luck

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado

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beomiracles · 1 month

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where they would take you for a date

pairings: ot5xafab!reader warnings: none, pure fluff, taehyun's might be a littleeee suggestive toward the end.

YEONJUN – market date

loves to spoil you, and what better way to do it than to go out shopping?

he takes you to a large market with various small stands containing everything from food to clothes, jewelry, furniture, flowers and perfumes.

lets you pick anything and everything you want.

will buy anything your eyes linger on for a little too long without you having to ask.

a big fan of getting matching things for the two of you, whether it be clothes or accessories, he wants it all.

The small town square is crowded with people as they all move around the various small stands. Latched on to your boyfriend’s side, Yeonjun swiftly maneuvers you through the crowd. His arms are already filled with bags full of clothes and jewelry as well as a bouquet of flowers that he had insisted on getting you, his words, “you like pink, these are pink, i’m getting them for you”.

A particularly small stand appears in front of you, the small table is filled with pearly bracelets and necklaces, glinting in the sun they immediately catch your attention. An elderly woman appears to be running the stand and she looks up as the two of you approach her. Giving you a warm welcome as Yeonjun goes on to make small talk with her while you look through the wide range of jewelry she had to offer. It always amazed you how easy and naturally your boyfriend could connect with people, it was something you greatly admired him for.

Your hands graze along a section of chunkier bracelets, they were decorated with pink gems in all shades. Yeonjun is quick to notice your gaze, “you want em’?” he asks, already bringing out his wallet. You shake your head, “I… I don’t know yet, I mean I like them..” you say somewhat hesitantly, he had already spent so much on you today. “They are pretty indeed”, the elderly lady said, “they would suit you well”. Your boyfriend is quick to agree and you consider it for a moment before nodding, “alright..”.

Your gaze wanders over a couple of earrings along with a few necklaces, not going unnoticed by Yeonjun who is quick to point at them and ask their price. The woman chuckles “you might as well buy your lady the whole table at this rate”, Yeonjun raises his eyebrows, “that’s possible?” You’re quick to give his shoulder a slap, “don’t be ridiculous”. You end up getting a pair of flower earrings along with matching necklaces as well. On the way back your boyfriend complains about you not letting him go through with buying the whole table of jewellery to which you make him know that he’s utterly stupid sometimes, though you still love him.

SOOBIN – movie date

very much a classic type of guy, so he takes you to the movies at least once a month.

he’s not always talkative and much prefers to sit in a comfortable silence with you as you enjoy a movie together.

100% pretends to yawn so that he can swing an arm around your shoulders, will continue to do this no matter how long you guys have dated.

plays with your hair and feeds you popcorn.

steals glances at you whenever he thinks you’re not looking, probably misses half the movie because he’s so busy staring at you.

Popcorn and drink in hand the two of you make your way down the aisles of the movie theater. Finding your usual favorite seats somewhere in the middle. Not even halfway through the commercials and half of your popcorn is gone. “You won’t have anything left for the movie if you keep that up”, Soobin comments, earning him a sharp glare from you. Your boyfriend clears his throat as he rubs the back of his neck, “I- I’ll go get us some more of course..” You smile and give his cheek a quick peck, “thank you, baby”.

It’s about five minutes into the movie when Soobin realizes it’s a horror movie you’ve gotten him to watch with you. The first jumpscare has him practically flying out of his seat and you have to fight to hold back the laugh threatening to consume you. “I thought you said it was an.. an action movie!” he exclaims and you roll your eyes, “well…it sort of has action in it”. Soobin shakes his head, “this is not the kind of action I can stomach”, he says, you glance over at him and he looks almost as if he’s about to throw up, you do feel a little bad.

Trying to soothe the damage you’ve caused you occasionally pretend to jump at the most obvious scares. Hiding your face in your boyfriend’s neck as you pull him closer. The small smile on Soobin’s face when you hug yourself closer to him makes it all worth it though. His long fingers thread through your hair softly as he makes small disgusted comments about the gore of the movie. You think it’s funny how different tastes the two of you have when it comes to movies, one thing you share though, the love for the cinematic experience. Despite the movie having his stomach almost turn on itself Soobin would’ve sat through a hundred movies like this one as long as he had you by his side.

BEOMGYU – guitar date

beomgyu prefers to stay in rather than going out while he shows you the music he’s been working on.

invites you over to his place, you guys order food and eat it on his bed before he brings out his guitar.

plays everything from your favorite songs to short chords of pieces he’s made for you.

might teach you how to play a string or two if you ask.

on rare occasions he sings to you as well.

Dressed in pajamas you sit on your boyfriend’s bed as a soft tune fills the room. Beomgyu sits in front of you, guitar propped up on one of his knees as his fingers graze along the strings. His hair falls down over his face as he concentrates on the instrument in front of him, quietly humming along. The gentle song makes you drowsy and you struggle to keep your eyes open.

Laying down on the mattress you look up at your boyfriend who gives you a puzzled look. “..keep playing..”, you mumble as your eyes flutter closed. Beomgyu chuckles above you as he readjusts his fingers on the guitar, playing a different song this time. You don’t recognize the melody, it’s pleasant, slow, calm but filled with something you can’t entirely place. “This is a new one..” you say without opening your eyes. Beomgyu hums, “it’s a lullaby”.

You open one of your eyes to squint up at him, “a lullaby?” you ask. He nods as he keeps playing, “you always seem to get so sleepy when I play, thought I’d make you an actual lullaby then”. His words make your heart flutter as you close your eyes, “it’s perfect”, you whisper. Beomgyu smiles as he keeps on playing, “it doesn’t have any lyrics yet…” he says as the melody slowly comes to an end.

You glance up at him, “I’m sure they’ll come to you, your mind is extraordinary”, you smile as your boyfriend gives you a shy look. He shakes his head, “I was thinkin’..” he says as he runs a hand through his hair, “we could maybe do them together?” he grins down at you, “I mean it’s your song too after all”. Unable to help the blush that makes its way to your face you nod, “I would like that”, you play with the guitar strings lightly, “and I’ll expect you to sing it to me every night”. Beomgyu’s hand finds your hair as he fiddles with the soft strands, “every night for as long as you want me to”, he agrees.

TAEHYUN ─ cooking date

this man knows how to cook, will definitely want to show off his skills to you.

has you watch him while he prepares food.

you ask him somewhat silly questions about what he's doing but he gladly answers them.

lets you taste everything as he cooks, one hand under the spoon to catch anything that spills as he feeds you the spoonful.

will cook anything you ask him to.

Propped up neatly on the countertop you watch closely as your boyfriend cooks dinner for the two of you. Earlier you'd suggested just ordering in something to eat but Taehyun insisted that he cooked for you. You certainly didn't mind, your boyfriend was a great chef and getting to watch the way his arms flexed slightly as he flipped the meat in the pan.. ─ well it was certainly a bonus.

"What's that for?" you ask as he adds an odd looking green plant to the meat. "Rosemary", Taehyun says, focused on the food in front of him, he cuts off another piece and hands it to you, "smell it". You do as he says, nose scrunching up at the distinct smell. Taehyun chuckles at your reaction, "it enhances the flavor of the steak", he explains as he turns his attention to the sauce cooking on the stove next to the pan.

You nod and the sweet aroma that soon fills the kitchen makes your stomach rumble. "How much longer?" you whine, your hunger getting to you. Taehyun dismisses your tone, "five more minutes or so", he turns off the stove and sets the sauce aside, giving it a few more stirs. He brings out a spoon and scoops up a bit of sauce on it, bringing it to your lips, "taste it".

The sauce tastes heavenly and you nod encouragingly as you swallow, "it's perfect! … can we eat now..?" your boyfriend nods and you swing yourself off the counter. Quickly setting the table, not forgetting to light a small candle, "oh by the way, dessert is on me", you say, Taehyun turns to look at you as he raises an eyebrow, "really? and what would that be?" Giggling, you walk up to him and give his cheek a quick peck, "that's for you to find out".

HUENINGKAI ─ arcade date

he loves gaming, him going to an arcade would be like bringing a kid to a candy store.

would want to bring you so he could show off to you.

showing you how to play certain games, you on his lap as he guides you through the game.

he would probably let you win too, anything to see you smile.

wins plushies for you (and himself, this man has an obsession with them).

Hueningkai practically drags you through the large glass doors and into the arcade hall. “Come on now”, he giggles as the two of you make your way through endless game stations. You groan involuntarily as you let your boyfriend pull you down by a car game, it had a driver's seat, a steering wheel accompanied by pedals on the floor. “Alright, I’ll show you how to play and then you’ll have a go, okay?” he smiles, already paying to get the game up and going. You weren’t exactly a fan of video games but you did your best to show interest in your boyfriend's hobbies.

You watch as Huening plays, he’s good you’ll give him that, one hand on the wheel as he skillfully maneuvers past the other cars. When he’s won he turns to look at you with a grin and you feel yourself smiling. “Your turn”, he says as he pulls you onto his lap without warning. “Huening”, you whine, “I don’t know…I’m not good at..”, your boyfriend cuts you off with a quick kiss to your lips. “You’ll do fine, just keep your eyes on the game, hands on the wheel and I’ll control the pedals, yeah?”

It turns out you’re not completely hopeless, with your boyfriend's hand on your waist and the other on top of yours on the wheel, you manage a third place. Huening is quick to praise you with kisses which you accept with a giggle. The two of you play various games and your boyfriend flaunts his talents as he manages to not only win you some chocolate but a fluffy penguin plushie. You hug the plushie tightly, as you make your way toward the exit, “I think I’ll name him Huening Junior”, you say, earning a chuckle from your boyfriend, “whatever my girlfriend wants”.

#txt #txt fanfic #choi beomgyu #kang taehyun #choi yeonjun #choi soobin #huening kai #txt post #txt fluff #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #taehyun x reader #soobin x reader #yeonjun x reader #hueningkai x reader #beomiracles soft thoughts ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 #beomiracles ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

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whyhellosims · 5 months

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Whether you like sleek and stylish, or quirky and cute, these kitty cats have you covered! Meet Persephone's Cats, a coffee table, end table, and sculpture ready to add some sassy cattitude to your sims' homes! These are for you, @mosneakers!

Details and download links below the cut!

All three objects come in 21 swatches, plain AO bake for recolors, patterned cats (Siamese, tuxedo, calico, tiger, abstract) and some base game furniture match colors as well. The sculpture is under decoration sculpture, the two tables are under their respective type of end table and coffee table. You can find any of them by typing WHS in the search bar. The links are to the folders for all three items, so you can get all or whichever one you fancy.

Here we goes! ➡ SFS Link and Google Drive

TOU: No pay sites ever. This item is free always, no conditions, no a*fly links. These are original meshes by me (except for the glass, I just nabbed those off EA items), so if you do recolor, please toss some credit my way and tag me so I can boost you, okay?

If you like my work, please consider a reblog to spread the word? Got requests? Need specific recolors? Find a problem? Please feel free to send me an ask or a DM! I promise I don’t bite and I’m still learning, so I’m happy to help!

Thank you to:

@sssvitlanz, @mmfinds, @alwaysfreecc, @mmoutfitters, @public-ccfinds

Moar WHS CC

#ts4 cc #sims 4 cc #ts4cc #sims4cc #maxis match cc #WHS #whs cc #THE PIANO SHELF IS COMING SOON

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thespineoftherighteous · 6 months

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more more more more aftg show bloopers (p 4?? I think?) whoop whoop de fuckin whoop

Neil's actor being a huge Duolingo dork and in the behind the scenes while the other actors are fooling around between takes you can often see him with his head bent and hear the little 'ping!'s coming from his phone

also during late night shoots, as it gets closer to midnight he always has a point where he's like SHIT my Duolingo streak. and then just blocks out everyone while his fingers fly over his screen

(fans make compilations of him proudly showing his Duolingo streak to the camera and the number grows as the seasons progress)

(he definitely is the kinda bitch who cares more about maintaining the streak than actually learning languages)

actually omg while we're on the topic of languages

Kevin's actor tenderly reciting his French lines to Matt's actor and Matt's actor is just smitten. and he goes "say something else, love" and Kevin's actor strokes his cheek while saying another one of his lines and Matt swoons

(then Kevin's actor turns to the camera and goes "I just told him that he's a disappointment and is going to get his ass handed to him by ravens if he doesn't do exactly as I say" and, from the ground, Matt's actor goes "hell yeah you did. talk dirty to me any day of the week you sexy, sexy man")

coach's actor is always swearing to the point where they implement a swear jar...really it's just something for the kids to jokingly rag on him about, but he goes with it, and every so often they'll empty the jar to buy the cast and crew pizza

they're filming outside at night and it's cold and in between takes Matt's Aaron's and Renee's actors are all huddled together for warmth and Matt's actor gets pulled aside to get his makeup touched up and the other two just shriek at the absence of his heat and catch up to him to tuck themselves against him again

Andrew needs to snap his fingers in one scene but everyone finds out that day that his actor doesn't know how to snap so he has a little impromptu snapping lesson and of course it turns into everyone else trying to one-up each other with their snapping abilities

Nicky's actor telling everyone what he's going to steal from set (will literally say"[about Allison's bathrobe] damn that shit soft as hell. Ive been needing a new bathrobe actually. I'm stealing this" or "I'm stealing this lighter/bandana/sunglasses/etc") but because his humor is so dry everyone thinks he's joking. until months later. when the prop department can't find shit

Renee's actress is doing something completely mundane but Neil's and Allison's actors start narrating what she's doing like they're in a nature documentary (always with Australian accents for some reason??)

"and our specimen now reclines herself vertically on a piece of furniture us humans know as 'a desk.' this clearly less-developed creature seems not to understand the purpose of such an object. but given that this is her first time outside her natural habitat (the jungle) her lack of familiarity with modern technology is to be expected"

Renee's actress: *flips them off*

"ah and here we witness one of the most common behaviors of this specimen. specialists have dubbed it 'flipping the bird,' and explain it as a nonverbal expression of affection" "oh fuck off"

photo from another cold night-shoot and it's of Matt's and Dan's actors, she's standing in front of him zipped up in his hoodie, just her head poking out and they're having a conversation with other castmates like it's the most normal thing in the world, looking the very image of the couple they play

so much glorious content from shooting the dorm sleepover scene. the most popular thing to come from it is a picture from after they wrapped where the cast and some members of the crew had moved even closer to each other amid all the blankets and are asleep on top of each other

Andrew's actor will sometimes actually eat the ice cream he's given instead of just pretending to eat it, and halfway through the scene he casually mentions that he's lactose intolerant and sends the crew into a worried frenzy

if you haven't clocked it yet, these bitches are competitive. and one day, one thing led to another, and soon a bunch of the actors are all being filmed having a plank-holding competition. Dan's actress is the first to drop and she gets booed at for it because "you're an ex-stripper where tf is that upper body strength?"

she flips them off and goes to sit on Kevin's actor, hoping to squash his plank, but instead he starts doing push ups with her on his back. she grins

(Rikos actor wins that competition btw. and Neil's actor goes on a rant about "we succumbed to the ENEMY? a RAVEN? your characters would be ashamed of you" (he also lost?))

Allison's actress pretending to do a get-ready-with-me using all the stuff on Allison's vanity

Wymack's actor falling asleep in The Dad Pose™ when they're shooting a scene on the bus. and everybody gathers in to take pictures

when Kevin and Neil get all up in each other's faces their actors will pretend like they're going to kiss each other

not really a blooper but just all the actors for the foxes and the ravens mingling together in between takes and it looks so wrong

give me all the actors constantly taking the piss out of their characters

for ex during a scene where the monsters are in the car on the way to Edens, Nicky's actor looks towards the backseat where everyone is in character and goes wow what a fun crowd we are you'd never believe we're about to hit the club

night shoots are a. struggle. for Dan's actress. and the others love to take videos of her just standing on her mark with the most spaced out expression on her face

Andrew's and Neil's actors are shooting one of their typical intense, deep scenes and after one take, as soon as "cut" is called, Andrew's actor grabs Neil's face and starts serenading him with the song that's been stuck in his head all day

Renee's actress getting scolded for sneaking snacks into her costume

when Nicky's actor messes up a line (and he's the least likely of everyone to do it) he starts spewing Spanish

Andrew's actor constantly teasing his brother and Katelyn's actress whenever they have scenes together

like the two of them will just be talking together in between takes and Andrews actor will be behind the camera recording them and saying shit like "look at that MINYARD RIZZ" (or he'll use their actual last name) "hey btw [Katelyn's actor] I taught him everything he knows"

that scene where the foxes are rushing out of the dorm to check on their destroyed cars and Matt's actor just faceplants (Neil's actor: "wow. the dedication")

in one scene or other Allison's actress is drinking an iced drink and during one take she just keeps calmly shaking the ice around in her cup until one by one everyone cracks

in one scene Allison's actress is wearing sunglasses. and in between takes she lies down and on camera you can see Kevin and Matt's actors whispering trying to figure out whether or not she's sleeping because they can't see her eyes

Aaron's actor always using Neil's actor as a pillow during car scenes because they're always next to each other and they're actually hella tight irl

the kids love to steal any props that coach's actor needs to use (pens clipboards etc) before they start rolling just so they can watch him try to subtly fidget trying to find his prop before they get to the point in the scene where he actually needs it

all the actors just taking pictures together in the most brutal settings on set.

like Neil's makeup has his face all busted and everyone wants a selfie with him. they all have a photoshoot with the trashed cars. they have another one in front of the "happy 19th birthday junior" set. Neil is tied up at The Nest while they change his hair and Jean's and Riko's actors take selfies with him. another photoshoot with Neil handcuffed in the police car. all these settings in terrible scenes and the actors are in front of them with grins and peace signs

they're terrible.

#are y'all bored yet?#aftg #aftgtv #neil josten #kevin day #aaron minyard #matt boyd #andrew minyard #dan wilds #nicky hemmick #allison reynolds #renee walker #david wymack

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celtic-crossbow · 7 months

Text

All at Once, This is Enough

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Setting: Alexandria (Whisperers Arc) Warnings: Descriptions of childbirth Summary: Baby Dixon is impatient, an experience you and Daryl will never forget. A/N: I actually love writing Daryl as a dad (or soon to be dad). I think I’ll continue this with little drabbles here and there, but for now, this is the last installment of And Baby Makes Three series

*Click here to be added to taglists.

The door flew inward and bounced off the wall from the force of Daryl’s boot, wood chips flying but it seemed to still be functional. He turned his body to shield you in case of any threats inside, but the one room cabin was empty save for some old, run down furniture. You curled in on yourself with a pained wince, clutching your rounded belly as the muscles tightened and rippled under your hands.

“Tha’ ‘nother one?” Daryl asked, gently placing you on the decrepit couch, Dog lying obediently by your feet. You nodded, breathing through your mouth, slow and deeply. “‘Bout four minutes maybe.” He mumbled to himself. He had no way to time but Siddiq had told him to try. In a rush of movement, the archer tore the old sheets off the bed, sending dust up in a cloud. He glanced at you apologetically while digging the extra blankets out of the pack. You had stuffed the damn thing full, so he could only pray there were things that would be useful.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled when the pain ebbed away and you had a moment to relax. He was spreading a blanket over the mattress but stopped to look at you over his shoulder.

“Wha’ fer?”

“I begged to come with you. Now, we’re here waiting for Siddiq and what if something goes wrong and Daryl, what if the baby… what if I…” You felt his hands on your face, not even realizing he had moved.

“Hey, hey. Ev’rythin’ s’gonna be okay. He’ll be here soon. Okay?”

Your eyes danced back and forth between his but you nodded and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand to your mouth. Your lips were so soft against his palm. He smiled at you, small but genuine, and moved his hand so he could press a kiss to your mouth before going back to work on setting up what Siddiq said was needed.

He made it two steps when he heard your breathing pick up and then a whine of his name. Glancing at you and then the bed, he came back and kissed your temple while gently lifting you. It had only been about three minutes since the last one.

With the utmost care, he placed you on the mattress with the two pillows to prop you up. His poncho was draped over them to keep any dirt or dust away from you.

“Daryl… it feels like…” You had begun to sweat, even in the freezing interior. There hadn’t been time for him to start a fire yet.

Daryl took hold of your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “Feels like wha’?”

“It burns.” You hissed. The archer felt his stomach flip and thought he might vomit. He had no idea what that meant or how to help you.

He let go of your hand and patted the back of it before snatching up the radio. “Siddiq.” He heard the static and waited, driving his boot through an old coffee table. He had to start a fire. When there was no answer in the time it took him to break up enough pieces to burn, he pressed the button harder than necessary. “Siddiq!”

“I’m here, Daryl. Ran into some walkers. Tell me what's happening.”

“She’s hurtin’ ‘bout ev’ry three minutes now. Says it burns.” He could have cried when the flame caught so quickly. Jogging back over to you, he started unfolding the second of three blankets. They were small and not very thick but they would cover you and help with the chill. That would do for now.

“Okay. Have you checked her to see if the baby is crowning?”

“Not a doctor, man.”

“Right. Sorry. I need you to look and tell me what you see.”

Daryl felt dizzy. A part of you that he was so intimately familiar with now scared the living hell out of him. He was out of his depth, but he had no choice. You and the baby had to be okay. “Yeah…um, okay… hang on.” He dropped the radio at the foot of the bed and then placed the blanket next to your hip. “Hey, I, uh, need ta look at ya.”

“Help me get these off.” You seemed utterly unbothered, pulling at the soft elastic waistband of the jeans. With a nod, Daryl took over, pulling them and your panties down your legs once you had raised your hips. He tossed them aside and placed one knee on the bed.

“I don’ know wha’ ‘m doin’.” The archer whispered, voice trembling.

“You’re just looking right now, Daryl.” You said between quickening breaths. When this one hit, your fingers dug into the blanket, twisting it, and you threw back your head with a scream. Daryl moved then, a hand on each of your knees, he separated them and reached behind him for the radio.

“I…don’t even know how describe wha’m lookin’ at.”

“Try, Daryl.”

He lifted his other hand from your knee and wrenched your fingers from the blanket, letting you squeeze his hand instead. At least now, he didn’t feel completely useless. Now, he was staring at your poor vagina and trying to think of a way to describe what exactly was going on down there.

“It, uh…it looks like half a peach with the pit still in it.”

“Shit.”

That did not inspire confidence. “Shit? Whaddaya mean shit?!” Looking up, the archer met your eyes, wide and terrified. He gave your hand a squeeze. This was all too insane and he knew if he thought about more than the here and the now, he would lose his goddamn mind. Here and now, you needed him. His baby needed him. He couldn’t think past that.

“I think the baby is crowning.”

“Th’fuck that mean?”

“It means that your baby is going to be born before I can get to you.”

His heart was pounding furiously, his chest literally hurt with each beat. You were looking at him, mirroring the terror he knew was showing naked on his face. His hand trembled as he pressed the button on the radio.

“Tell me wha’ ta do.”

“Daryl.” You cried, barely able to catch your breath while the grip on his hand tightened.

“I know, Sunshine.” The radio remained silent other than static. “Siddiq?” You were repositioning yourself as best you could while refusing to let go of him. “M’gonna kill ‘im.”

“Yeah, do that, but first…could you maybe catch our baby?”

“Wait… wait, wha’?”

You could feel another contraction coming, leaving you very little time to speak. “I helped with Hershel and with RJ. I can do this. Just… don’t pass out.” With a deep breath during the first spasm of the next contraction, you pushed, teeth clenched with a scream brewing behind them.

“Won’ pass out.” He wasn’t very sure of himself but he couldn’t let you down. It wasn’t an option. Daryl moved to the area just below your feet, holding your knees to give you some kind of grounding connection. He was supposed to say something, right? Encourage you? It felt like the right thing to do. You’d surely tell him to shut up if it wasn’t. “Ya, uh… ya got this.”

You fell back, feeling like you got absolutely nowhere. It still burned and the pressure was incredible. “Fuck. Ow.”

Daryl’s thumb swiped back and forth over your kneecap. “Wha’ can I do? Whaddaya need?”

“I need this baby out of me!” You panted, your fingers flexing in the blanket.

“Well, tha’s the endgame, Sunshine.”

You were making a conscious effort to not end up like the women in movies. All “I hate you” and “you did this to me,” especially when Daryl was looking at you with an expression somewhere between worry and that he thought you hung the moon. You couldn’t imagine yelling at him during the most important event of your lives.

Then the next contraction came and it was time to push. Maybe yelling at him would make this easier somehow. It didn’t matter because the pain was unbearable and you couldn’t form words if you tried.

“Yer doin’ great. Holy shit, baby’s right there!”

You wanted to ask questions as you sagged against the pillows, feeling like you got no reprieve before you’re sitting up again to push. Daryl was talking, encouraging you and squeezing your knees until he wasn’t. You had enough conscious thought to miss the contact but then you were being torn in half. You screamed, the pain white hot and new and then the most intense relief that you had ever known.

That angry wailing was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard.

You did it.

Panting hard, near gasping, you looked at Daryl. His eyes were wide and shining, his arms moving to wrap the little bundle in a blanket. He looked so adorably alarmed and lost that you would have given anything to wrap both him and the baby up and hold them.

“There’s a…uh,” he lifted the cord that was still attached and you remembered there was still work to be done but your body knew what to do. Right then, you just wanted to see this little person that you and Daryl created.

“It’s okay. Just leave it.” You reached toward him and he automatically offered up the newborn while a tear rolled down his cheek.

“S’a boy.” Daryl said quietly while you positioned your son close to your chest. Offering up a nipple while careful not to pull against the cord, you were surprised at how easily he latched on.

“Wow, hungry little guy. Definitely yours.” You smiled up at the archer to find him still looking awestruck. “You’re a daddy.” He nodded carefully while moving to sit beside you, blue eyes flickering between you and the baby. “He looks just like you too.”

“Poor kid.” With slow, gentle movements, Daryl brushed a finger over the baby’s soft, light hair before pressing a kiss to your temple. “Yer amazin’.”

“I bet you say that to all your baby mamas.”

“Stop.”

Daryl did not, in fact, kill Siddiq.

Baby Dixon was now a week old. You and Daryl had settled into a routine of such domestication that you could almost forget the dead walked outside the walls. He had turned over anything that needed done around the community to someone else, aside from hunting. He made sure Carol and Michonne were there to help you when he had to go out. People had to be fed and it was winter. It was the one job he couldn’t ignore.

Your eyes opened to the moonlight peering through the window. You propped yourself up on your arms and looked around the room. The other side of the bed and the bassinet were empty. You were alone.

That meant there was only one place Daryl could be.

When you pushed open the nursery door, you found your archer sitting in the rocking chair with your son tucked in the crook of his elbow, talking softly.

“Yer uncle Merle was a real sumbitch but he’da loved ya. Well, after he told me wha’ a pussy I was fer settlin’ down with yer mama.”

“Language.” You whispered around a smile.

Daryl didn’t seem surprised to see you there. “He was fussin’ n’ he only ate a hour ago. Didn’ wanna wake ya so we came in here. M’sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You walked over and brushed back the archer’s hair before leaning on the back of the chair to gaze at your son. The baby was staring intently between the both of you, gurgling and cooing around his fingers.

“He likes stories.” Daryl informed you, never looking away from the tiny bundle. “Keeps ‘im from squaling when he gets changed if I tell him somethin’ new.”

“We should name him soon.”

“Yeah. Lil’ bean ain’t what I wanna saddle the poor kid with.”

You chuckled. “You called Judith lil’ asskicker.”

“Kid eventually got a name.” Daryl stood carefully, holding the baby in one arm while the other reached for your hand. You laced your fingers through his and followed him back to your bedroom. With the baby in his bassinet, Dary wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his side. He pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I think I know what we could name him.”

“Yeah?”

You smiled up at him. “Yeah, I think so.”

Michonne moved around your kitchen, putting together plates for everyone. She and Carol would bring food over to make sure you and Daryl were eating while adjusting to being parents. Carol was snuggling the baby and pointing out which features belonged to Daryl and which were yours.

“Definitely Daryl’s ears.” She laughed.

“Wha’s wrong with my ears?” Daryl gave her a light kick on the ankle.

“Nothing, Pookie. They’re adorable.” Carol smiled sweetly and Daryl flipped her off. You had all just sat down to eat when the hungry whimpers began. “I think this little guy wants his dinner too, mama.”

You accepted your son and sat down on the couch, sliding your arm through one sleeve so you could pull up your shirt without it continuously falling down while he tried to nurse. There was no need to cover up. It was just the five of you. Judith and RJ were at Aaron’s with Gracie.

The baby latched on eagerly. “There you go, little bean.”

“You two ever gonna name him?” Michonne queried. You and Daryl exchanged a knowing look.

“We already did.” The archer noted before sipping from his water glass.

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense here!” Carol beamed, food forgotten.

You smiled at Daryl and he nodded. “Well,” you began while stroking your baby’s cheek. “We’d like to formally introduce you to Merle Richard Dixon.”

Daryl kept his eyes on you but could feel Michonne looking at him. “Fer the brother I’s born with and fer the one that chose me.”

The room went quiet save for the sounds of little Merle suckling away without a care.

When Daryl saw you shift your gaze, he finally turned to Michonne. “Is, uh…is tha’ okay?” There were tears in her eyes with one escaping to travel down her cheek.

After a moment, she smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I think he’d love that.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, watching relief wash over Daryl as well. You shifted Merle to sit upright on your lap with your hand under his chin while the other rubbed his back. “Then it’s settled.” There were smiles and nods shared before everyone went back to eating.

And the baby let out a burp worthy of an adult man.

“Yeah, Merle fits.” Carol teased. The air in the room was lighter with laughter and everything seemed perfect. At least for now, but you’d definitely take that.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon imagine #daryl fanfiction #daryl x you #daryl twd #twd daryl #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon twd #murda writes #Spotify

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thisismeracing · 11 months

Note

husband! mick hcs PLEASEE

husband!mick headcanon

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff; not proofread; mentions of pregnancy; mentions of sex; minors DNI!

Wears his wedding band PROUDLY! This man will make sure people see he has a ring on his finger and he will most likely find reasons to mention you, it doesn’t matter when. Talking about a traditional dish during race week? “oh my wife loves this!”. The weather? “my wife loves when it's sunny like this”. The flight? “my wife always gets sick in airplanes, but she loves flying anyway”. He will mention you and he will point out the fact that you're his WIFE because he just loves you so much and he loves the life you have together and the idea that you’re his wife, he takes this seriously;

Loves to cook you breakfast though he’s not that good at it, sometimes will burn a thing or two, and often you will find him watching youtube videos to learn to cook something new for you guys;

Mick will try and build furniture whenever you get a new one;

Loves grocery shopping, just strolling around checking things from your list and choosing between which one sounds better/tastier. He thinks it's therapeutic and even goes by himself when you’re too busy with work.

He memorizes all the important dates. Mick never forgot an anniversary or even the birthday of a relative you mentioned;

Your family adores him and so does his with you, so it’s not uncommon to gather everyone every possible time. It’s always a nice crowd and there's just so much love;

Your relatives will ask about babies of course, to which Mick will share a look with you before smiling and saying “soon”;

It’s rare when you fight, but when you do oooh- Mick won’t go to bed angry. You promised each other that, and you were tempted to break it, but then he was at the door with tear-stained cheeks telling you he was sorry and that you would talk in the morning, but you were still his favorite girl and he loved you. You cried too, said sorry, and ended up talking it through before going to bed.

When you suggest getting a new dog so Angie had company, he loves the idea, and for a couple of months you guys keep hinting at each other comments that suggested yet another company for you and the dogs (a baby);

The baby-making season is WILD. Mick will have you whenever and wherever you let him. It goes as far as quickies in bathrooms during parties or gatherings, and right before he races. It's so good and thrilling that at some point you're just having lots of sex without the worry of coming inside and fertilizing;

It does not take long though, just a couple of months and boom you’re having all the pregnancy symptoms;

Husband!mick will get 100000x more careful with you, always making sure you are feeling ok and that you’re safe. He will ask the doctor if you can fly around with him for races and once you get the clear he won’t leave your side if he doesn't have to. And he dreads when he has to leave;

Just overall a sweetheart and does everything and anything for his family.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @kenanlotus0 @mellowpizzapuppy @mickslover @dalsuwaha @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @fdl305 @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo

#mick schumacher #anon #millies inbox #requests #op: headcanons #f1 imagines #ms47 #mick schumacher imagine #f1 imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher fluff #husband!mick

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flowersandbigteeth · 4 months

Note

A Heath the Gargoyle part 2? It’s going to be the 1 year anniversary for his story soon (you posted Dec. 29 2022) and I’d love to see the couple’s relationship in a more established/long term phase. Maybe Heath is getting ready to propose so Y/N doesnt end up “dying alone eaten by local strays”?

I can't believe it's been a whole freaking year!!! Time goes soooo fast! Okay, I didn't make it the 29th...but I'm close ^_^

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Gargoyle (Heath) x F reader

Word Count: 3.5 K

General Plot: You and Heath go to a childhood friend's New Years Party.

Previous Parts

TW: nsfw gargoyle smut, extremally awkward party conversation, p in v sex, flying and being in high places if heights bothers you, discussion of depression, hurt comfort dynamic

“Are you sure this looks good?” Heath asked you, shifting on his feet and plucking at the silver tie you’d fastened to his neck to match your sparkly dress.

“It's perfect!” You beamed, smiling up at him and swatting his hand. “Don't look so nervous!”

“I don't want to embarrass you,” he said, uncharacteristically shy.

You snorted.

“I’m more worried about the opposite,” you sighed. “Just…take anything they say with a grain of salt.”

“What does that mean?” He asked.

“Grace and I have been friends since we were kids because my mom works for her dad’s company…I kind of had to be her friend. Don't get me wrong, we were really close when we were kids,” you said. “But now I only see her for her annual New Year's party for my mom's sake. It's all I can stomach…how do I say this…she's kind of…competitive….You'll see.”

The two of you stood on the doorstep of her boyfriend’s obnoxiously large house, the sound of the party inside filling the chilly night air. You wore a sparkly dress, and Heath a sharp suit customized to fit his wings.

“Maybe they didn't hear me.”

You hit the doorbell again, and it let out a hollow DING.

“I’ve got it!” Someone shouted behind the door.

You heard the sound of footsteps, and the door swung open to reveal Grace's boyfriend Mark.

He was a better than average looking guy with blonde hair cut in a trendy style, wearing an expensive suit.

“Well…hello!” Mark said, his head tipping back to meet Heath’s eyes. “You’re…”

His mouth hung open for a moment, at a loss for words, then they both spoke at once.

“Heath.”

“Huge.”

There was an awkward pause before you stepped forward and hugged Mark.

“Thanks for having us over, Mark!” You beamed, shoving a bottle of champagne in his hand.

Mark blinked for a moment as you pushed past him, pulling Heath behind you.

“Grace’s in the kitchen!” He called after the two of you as he shut the door.

“Hiiii!” Grace squealed as you pushed through partygoers to get to the kitchen.

It wasn’t particularly difficult since Heath was bigger, harder, and wider than anyone in the room.

Grace looked beautiful, dressed in a glittery champagne bodycon dress. She'd always been lithe, her profile spruced up by a new pair of boobs Mark had bought her.

As usual, her party was perfect, every detail considered. There was a bartender wearing a bow tie serving drinks, the perfect music playing, and fresh flower arrangements everywhere.

All the furniture had been removed to create a dance floor, and someone had specially designed gold lights to set the mood.

“So this is the man himself!” Grace exclaimed, looking up at Heath with wide eyes.

“Gargoyle,” you corrected.

“Right! Right! Henry, wasn't it?”

Heath gave her a humble smile and stuck out a hand to shake hers.

“Heath. Nice to meet one of (Y/N)’s friends.”

She held his hand a moment too long before she dropped it.

“(Y/N), shame on you for keeping him hidden away!”

You blushed and put a hand on Heath’s arm, unsure what to say. The two of you had been half hibernating for the winter. You tended to get a bit of depression during the cold, dark months. Heath was more than happy to snuggle up with you and his fluffy little cat Aero and cuddle, which is all you really wanted to do from November to April.

People usually imagined gargoyles sitting stoically in the snow and menacing passerbys, but Heath liked to nest, tucking you both in piles of warm blankets and reading to you while you shared snacks.

Her eyes traveled from the tip of his folded wings, down the trim suit was wearing, to his clawed feet.

“I can see why,” she went on, her mouth hanging open for a moment before she caught herself. “I'm so glad you two came!”

“I've been missing my best friend! Let's get you some drinks!” she squealed, leading you out of the kitchen.

Heath glanced down at you and raised an eyebrow.

“Best friend?” He mouthed at you, and you shrugged.

“Pomegranate martinis for us,” she said to the man behind the bar.

“What do you like to drink, Heath?” Mark asked, appearing with the bottle of champagne you'd brought and handing it to the bartender.

“Whatever you've got with Whiskey.”

“Gotcha, big guy,” the bartender said, tossing bottles elegantly as he made the drinks.

When you were all set up with beverages, Lily led you out onto her back patio.

“Look at this,” you said, taking in the beautiful outdoor space. “You've been hard at work! It's beautiful out here!”

She'd put in layers of neatly trimmed flowers and bushes, which were dusted in snow. White lounges were arranged to make comfortable seating areas warmed by blue glass fire pits. The massive pool glowed, steam drifting up from its surface. It looked like it had come straight out of a magazine.

“Isn't it? Mark got the best landscaper in the state! I'll give you his card!”

She frowned at you.

“Oh, you're still in that icky old apartment, aren't you?” she asked. "You've got to get out of that place. Aren't you afraid of mold? It's terrible for your complexion."

“(Y/N) lives with me. Gargoyles like high places, so I have a flat downtown,” Heath corrected her, then smiled down at you. “Though the only plants we have are potted.”

“Heath is really good with plants,” you said, smiling back at him with warmth. “He’s made us a whole jungle on the balcony!”

“Hmm,” Grace hummed, eyes dropping to Heath’s large hands. “You look like you're good with your hands, Heath. You’ll have to come by sometime and give me some lessons.”

Heath’s eyebrows rose, glancing down at you for help.

“How’s work going, Mark?” You asked to change the subject.

“Mark got a promotion,” Grace said before he could answer. “He's a senior account manager at Dawson and Shields.”

“Congratulations, Mark,” you said politely.

He raised his drink and put a possessive arm over Grace’s shoulder.

Before anyone could speak, one of Grace’s’s friends practically ran towards you, eyes on your hulking boyfriend.

“(Y/N)!” Mary wailed, throwing her arms around you in a way she’d never done before.

“Oh…Oof!” you gasped, catching her weight. “Uh…nice to see you again, Mary. This is my boyfriend, Heath.”

He put his hand out to shake hers, but she shoved her body past it, attempting to plaster herself to his chest.

“We do hugs here!” Mary brayed.

He took an awkward step backward, gently pushing Mary off of him with one large hand.

“Sorry,” he said, tapping his nose. “Your perfume. My kind is very sensitive to scent.”

He folded his big body down and tucked his nose into the spot where your neck met your shoulder, tapping a small kiss into your skin and subtly sniffing your neck as if he was cleansing his pallet.

Mary’s face turned bright red, and she took a step back.

“Are you still working at that bookstore?” Grace asked, filling the awkward silence.

Before you could answer, she turned to Heath.

“I've been trying to tell (Y/N) it's time to get a grown-up job for years now. I mean, who works minimum wage at some shabby little bookstore at our age, don't you think?”

Heath glanced at you and tipped his head to the side in a way you recognized as annoyance, though didn't look it. He took a sip of his drink to hide his frown.

“What do you do, Grace?” He asked when he’d straightened his face.

Excited to talk about herself, she went on, her hands waving around as she talked.

“I'm a beauty influencer!” she said.

“Beauty…influencer?” Heath asked. “I'm not sure I know what that means.”

She stuck out her chest to show off the Chanel necklace resting just above her cleavage.

“I model jewelry, makeup, and nails,” she said. “Then I do reviews on all the products!”

“Oh..uh…neat,” he said, trying to be friendly for your sake.“I didn't know that was a job. Do the brands pay you?”

Her bright smile fell for just a moment before she plastered it back on.

“Well…No, but I'm hoping to get some sponsorships this year!” She said. “I have 1,000 followers on TikTok!”

Heath gave her a blank look.

“Tik… Tok?” He asked, glancing down at you for guidance.

“Um…it started as an app for teenagers to lip-sync popular songs, but now lots of people use it!” you explained.

He raised his eyebrows but was at a loss for words.

“What do you do for work, Heath?” Mark asked.

“I own a shabby little bookstore,” he said before taking a long drag of his drink.

“Oh!” Grace said with a stilted smile.

There was another incredibly awkward silence.

“Well, I think that's wonderful!” Mary cheered, squeezing his elbow. “There aren't enough brick-and-mortar stores these days! Everything is online!”

Heath brightened, though he took a half step away from Mary.

“We do a lot of online business, as well.”

He brushed his heavy hand over your hair, affectionately.

“We?” Grace asked.

“I made (Y/N) my co-owner.”

“Wow, sleeping with the boss, (Y/N),” Mary snickered. “I never thought you had it in you.”

You blushed, but Heath folded you under his arm.

“It’s the other way around,” Heath chuckled, brushing his thumb over your bare shoulder as he spoke. “(Y/N) is the boss. She’s got more of a mind for business than me. I'm just a book nerd, but she’s a marketing genius. Sales were dropping the year before last, so she managed to turn the store into more of a destination. Since she took over things, we've started focusing on hard-to-find antiques and hosting auction events. Profits have quadrupled.”

“Oh!” Mark said, snapping his fingers. “Of course! You own Gargoyle Book Gallery! That's a legend! My boss loves antique books...first editions and all that. He raves about your spot all the time!”

Heath tipped his drink at Mark.

“Donny Shields, right? He comes by for poker night.”

“Poker night?” Mark asked.

Heath nodded.

“Some guys from the Business League come over on Saturdays to play a couple of hands of poker and shoot the shit,” he explained.

Mark’s eyebrows shot up.

“I'd love to get in on that!” He said, eyes almost green with envy. "Can't imagine the conversations over that table!"

Heath shrugged.

“We’ve got a full table now, but if a spot opens up, I’ll ask the guys,” he said.

Grace decided too much time had passed without anyone paying attention to her.

“Now that Mark is on track to be partner, we are going to buy a new house!” she said. “I don’t understand how you can stand to live in a tiny apartment!”

Mark looked at her like he did not, in fact, want to buy a new house.

“We’re still discussing it,” he said.

Grace smacked him on the arm.

“Don’t be silly, Mark,” she said. “With your raise, we can afford something bigger!”

“I mean, I spend a lot of money on your stuff for TikTok, Grace,” he murmured. “Maybe if you were pulling in some revenue-”

Grace smacked him again, harder this time, and gave him a look that said, “Shut up if you know what’s good for you.”

“This place is really nice,” Heath offered Mark, trying to be diplomatic. “Plenty of room for a family.”

They both spoke at once.

“We aren’t starting a family.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought when I bought it.”

You and Heath glanced at one another and took long sips of your drinks.

“I have my career to think of!” Grace said while Mark found somewhere else to look.

“That’s a pity. You’d be a great mom!” Mary said. “You could be a mommy blogger. Your fans would love that. You and Mark would have beautiful babies.”

“Of course. We have excellent genes,” Grace said, enjoying being complimented.

Her eyes slid mischievously to you.

“What about you two?” she asked. “Are you thinking of starting a family?”

You and Heath’s eyes met.

“Maybe,” Heath said. “If you want to.”

Your cheeks warmed, but not from embarrassment.

“I’d like that,” you said.

Grace frowned.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asked.

The two of you looked at her, confused.

“You know, because of your mental illness. You wouldn’t want to pass that on to your kids…and how can you be a good mom with depression?”

Your heart dropped, and tears flooded your eyes. It shouldn’t have gotten to you. You knew how Grace was, but it still hurt. It was something you’d always felt a little insecure about.

Heath’s mouth fell open, and he shoved his glass into Mark’s hand.

“It was nice to meet you, Mark,” he said before he scooped you up in his arms, and with a heavy pump of his wings, the two of you shot up into the night sky.

He flew a couple of blocks away, before he stopped and hovered in place.

Tears slid down your cheeks, leaving an icy streak as they cooled.

“Are you okay?” Heath asked as the two of you hung suspended in the cold December air.

You sniffled, wiping your tears.

“Yeah…I told you…Grace is competitive. She doesn’t like anyone looking better than her,” you whimpered.

You felt a low growl in his chest.

“That’s no excuse,” he said. “I think you’ll be a great mom. I’m not the least bit worried.”

“But what if she’s right?” you asked. “What if I’m a terrible mom? What if my kids are messed up or something?”

Heath let out a chuff with no humor.

“That’s nonsense, teacup,” he said. “Depression is pretty common…and you manage yours just fine. Nobody is a perfect parent, and everyone has different challenges. Grace sounds like some kind of eugenicist. It’s creepy, to be honest.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “You don’t wish you had a perfect girlfriend like Grace?”

Heath laughed out loud.

“Grace is not the perfect girlfriend. Sooo far from it. I kind of feel bad for Mark, to be honest,” he said. “You on the other hand…”

He tucked his head in the crook of your neck, smattering kisses over the skin.

“You are smart…sweet…patient…incredibly patient,” he whispered, kissing you or nibbling with each word. “I have no idea how you put up with that woman.”

“You get used to it,” you murmured.

He tipped your face up to his.

“I don’t want you to get used to that kind of meanness,” he said. “I don’t want to control who you see…but I don’t like them. I’d rather spend the rest of New Year's with you if that’s okay, not some snobby weirdos.”

He adjusted you in his arms, nudging you to loop your legs around his waist. You pressed yourself against his warm body to chase away the chill of the night air. With one arm holding you to him, he cupped the nape of your neck, guiding your lips to his with the other.

He tasted like oaky whiskey, making your mouth water. His heavy kisses chased any thoughts of Grace or the party away.

Hovering in the inky night with the twinkling lights of the city sparkling in every direction, your only focus was Heath’s thick hand holding you securely in place and his lips on yours.

You ground your hips into his body, delighted to feel his hardening shaft meet your core.

His hand slipped down your neck, tugging the front of your dress down with a stiff jerk. The straps snapped, and your breasts tumbled out.

“Heath,” you gasped, but he hushed you with another deep kiss before speaking.

“It’s dark. No one can see us. Let me make you feel good.”

He dipped his head, drawing a peaked nipple into his mouth. The contrast of his hot tongue and the chilly air made you quake. He licked and sucked one nipple and then the other until you’d completely forgotten everything going on below. Your world shrank to just Heath and all the decadent things he could do to your body.

Your head fell back, pleasure snaking up and down your spine as he delighted you. Thick fingers roughly shoved the skirt of your dress up your thighs, and he traced your slit, growling at how wet you were for him. Another swift jerk and your shredded panties were fluttering a hundred feet down to the snowy earth.

You gasped his name, but he was high on your scent and taste, wholly focused on giving you pleasure. He screwed two fingers inside of you, opening you up for him. You let out a needy whimper when they pulled out for a moment but were quickly replaced with his tail, thrusting in and out of you.

You hardly heard the buzz of his zipper, your eyes rolling back in your head. With a tight thrust of his hips, his tail slipped away, and his thick cock filled you. He clutched your ass with a deep, satisfied grunt.

A hundred feet up in the sky, you didn’t dare unhook your arms from around his neck, so you were at his mercy as he slammed his shaft into you. You bleated lusty yelps with every smack of his heavy balls against your skin, clinging to him for dear life. You were dizzy from fear blending with pleasure, your breaths ragged gasps. There was nothing between you and falling to your death but Heath’s enormous arms and powerful wings.

“You’re so fucking perfect, (Y/N),” he growled into your ear, practically feral from the way your channel spasmed around his cock. You were tight, wet, hot, and the only woman in the world he wanted. Gripping your ass, he used your cunt like a fleshlight, slamming his cock into you over and over again.

The tip of his naughty tail circled your clit, pushing you closer and closer to your end until there was nowhere else to go, and you went careening over the edge. With the addition of your pussy strangling his cock he couldn’t hold back any longer, his final thrusts savage and bruising.

Your stomach dropped as he lost control of his wings for a moment, and the two of you dipped into a free fall for a few seconds. You felt his searing cum fill you as you screamed into his chest. The confusing sensation of falling and his cum filling your womb slammed you into another unexpected orgasm. You bounced in his arms as he steadied the two of you.

“Heath!” you gasped, your nails digging into his neck.

“It’s okay, teacup, I’ve got you,” he muttered as he titled his wings, and the two of you streaked across the city.

Instead of heading home, he deposited you on the roof of a tall building downtown.

“Wait here,” he said, zipping his fly, and before you could say anything, he swooped away.

When he returned a few minutes later, he was holding a bottle of champagne.

“Where did that come from?” you laughed as he settled next to you and tugged you into his lap.

“I stole it from a party going on down there,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, they have plenty.”

You giggled, leaning back into his chest, while he popped the top, aiming the spray off of the edge of the building, before tipping a little into your mouth.

There was a pop, and fireworks exploded in the sky across the city.

He turned you around to him, slipping something out of his pocket.

"I wanted to do this tonight...but things didn't go quite as planned..." he said, appearing suddenly nervous.

You tipped your head to the side, confused until he opened the little box in his hand revealing a pretty ring.

"Heath!" you gasped your hand going to your lips.

"(Y/N)," he said. "Since the day I hired you, my world changed. At first it was just a fantasy crush. I mean, as your boss...I felt like it was wrong to act on it...but something about you is irresistible. It was impossible not to fall in love with you. Impossible not to steal you away.

Then we started dating and for awhile, I thought that was enough...but as the year went on...I realized I was happier than I'd ever been and you seemed...happier than I'd ever seen you...So...I want to make this permanent. If...you want that..."

Your eyes danced from the ring up to Heath's eyes. More fireworks bloomed in the sky, and you could see them reflected in Heath’s dark irises.

"Are...you asking me to marry you, Heath?" you asked.

"I guess I forgot the most important question," he said, giving you a shy chuckle. "(Y/N), will you marry me?"

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time for the best reason.

"Yes! Of course! I love you, Heath! I want to be with you forever!" you said.

“I love you, too (Y/N). Happy New Year,” he said quietly, slipping the ring out of the velvet and slipping it on your finger.

“Happy New Year, Heath,” you said tucking your head into his cozy shoulder and watching the fireworks make your engagement ring sparkle.

#monster x girl #monster fucker #monster smut #monster #monster romance #monster x human #monster lover #male yandere #yandere smut #gargoyle #x reader

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onechicagolife · 1 year

Text

prayers

summary: prompt 33 - in which chicago med goes on lockdown

requested? yes by anonymous (x2)

word count: 1426

warnings: active/mass shooting (i know this is canon with the triggers of the show but this is a particularly tough topic; there is nothing explicit or descriptive other than gunshots being heard)

want to be tagged? link in bio <3

You make your way back towards the emergency department with a fresh cup of coffee in hand, the cafeteria coffee being surprisingly better than whoever stocks the doctor’s lounge with some weird, flavored crap you can’t keep down. This feels like the longest shift of your life, rarely getting a break from the craziness of a Chicago hospital. You take a long sip, savoring the taste when your pager beeps on your waist. You groan to yourself, not wanting to have to toss your coffee and run to the ED, even though it is a relatively short distance now. When you finally tug the pager free from where it is clipped to your scrubs, your breath hitches in your throat as you read the letters staring back at you.

CODE SILVER.

Racking your brain for an email about a drill that you may have skimmed over, you can feel your heart hammering in your chest like an anvil on metal sending a ringing through your ears. This has to be a drill. You learn about what to do in active shooter situations, but you never thought one would actually happen at a hospital. The small hope that this was somehow not real squashes when three quick shots ring out and your head shoots up, the sound scaring you so bad that you drop the cup in your hand. Coffee splashes on your feet and the brief shocked silence is suddenly filled with screams.

You’ve been trained for this. You’ve been trained for this. You’ve been trained for this.

Everything you learned flew out the window the second you heard those shots sounding too close for comfort and you stand there, frozen. You only snap back to yourself when a frantic woman bumps into you as she runs by with her young child in her arms. It works like a bucket of cold water on a sleeping form, and you start taking in your surroundings. Your eyes dart in every direction, watching as people run and attempt to hide as more shots ring out.

When your eyes land on a door that has a locked card scanner, you kick it into gear. You run over and swipe your access card, watching the red light turn green and waiting for the click to open the door. Glancing back over your shoulder, you spot a group of people trying to shield themselves poorly behind furniture, and you call out to get their attention. When one elderly man meets your eyes, you check both ways to make sure the coast is clear before gesturing them over.

Once everyone in sight is ushered inside, cramming as tightly as possible in the uncomfortably small storage space, you close the door and sit with your back against it. Closing your eyes for a second, you let out a long breath through your nose to try and slow your breathing. One woman’s sobs reach your ears, and your eyes fly open. You bring a finger to your lips and shush her, feeling bad for the harshness but knowing now is not the time for niceties. Someone has to be in charge, and it’s going to be you.

Now that you’ve had a moment to catch your breath with the solid barrier between the rest of the hospital, the severity of the situation hits you. Immediately, you pull out your phone from the inner pocket of your lab coat. The brightness is stark in the almost pitch-blackness of the room and you hurry to turn the brightness all the way down before it can be seen through the space under the door. Eyes adjusting to the screen, you notice the dozens of text messages and missed calls.

Will Halstead: where the hell are you

Will Halstead: there’s a shooter in the ED

Will Halstead: WHERE ARE YOU

Maggie Lockwood: There’s multiple people down in the ED.

Connor Rhodes: Locked in the hybrid OR with Will. Shooter somewhere in the hospital. Where are you?

Maggie Lockwood: Are you safe?

Jay Halstead (14 missed calls)

You respond to the texts first, assuring that you are safe and exactly where you are. It takes a few moments longer than usual due to the shaking of your hands that you can’t gain control of. You’re a doctor, your job relies on steady hands. Yet here you are, struggling to construct a sentence that makes sense. Once you manage, though, you tap the call button on your boyfriend’s contact. Bringing the phone to your ear, you listen as it goes straight to voicemail without even ringing. Meaning his phone is off. Hopefully meaning that he’s responding to this very scene. Hopefully meaning you won’t die without being able to tell him that you’re in love with him. You close your eyes shut to hold back the tears, knowing that if you break down, there’s no way the other dozen people in here will be able to keep it together.

It feels like hours go by in harrowing stillness, but in reality, it was probably shorter than that. Truthfully, you have no idea. It could have been days or seconds, and you wouldn’t know the difference. The sobs around you have quieted, with some of the people falling into silent prayers and hugging the complete strangers beside them. You even pray yourself, to any god or being that will listen, to get you out of this and back to the people – the person – you love. But the silence is interrupted when footsteps echo through the halls outside where you’ve found shelter, and the sobs of a few come back in full force, others trying their best to smother the sounds.

You bring a still-shaking hand up to your mouth, stifling the short breaths as your strength fractures and a few tears trail down your cheeks as the footsteps get closer. When they seem to come to halt just behind where you sit, there's only two inches separating you from whoever is outside.

You hold your breath.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes fly open at the sound of the love of your life’s voice. You quickly move to stand up when a young girl, maybe ten, tugs harshly on your pant leg. Glancing down, you meet her frightened eyes and do your best at a reassuring smile. “It’s okay,” you glance around the room with a soft nod, “that’s the police.” Heavy gasps and relieved cries fill the room as you manage to spin around in the cramped space, gripping the handle and yanking the door open.

Immediately, your eyes land on Jay, and a sense of peace washes over you. The feeling is mirrored in his eyes as he takes you in, checking you for nonexistent injuries before you all but launch yourself at him. His arms circle your waist as yours wind around his neck with a grip so tight you’re nearly choking him, but he doesn’t even mind. Jay lifts you off the ground slightly to move out of the way, allowing the other dozen people to come out and be helped by the various other officers.

“Thank god,” you choke out, tears now flowing freely.

“It’s okay,” Jay mumbles into your hair, one hand migrating to cradle the back of your head, “You’re okay.”

After a few moments of being calmed in his embrace, you pull away just enough to meet his eyes. “Is everyone okay? Did you find Will and th—” you start to ask, words tumbling out of your mouth faster than you can think them.

“Everyone’s okay,” Jay assures, both hands moving to cup your cheeks, “A few bystanders and a nurse were shot, but everyone is going to live. I found Will in the ED; he told me where you were.”

You close your eyes and nod at his words, signaling that you understand them.

Swiping a tear off of your skin, Jay says your name like a prayer and you open your eyes once again. “When you didn’t answer your phone, I—I thought,” he struggles to get the words out, “I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You are so important to me, you are such a big part of my life, that I just… I can’t imagine you not here. I love you, Y/N.”

The words hit your ears and it’s a melody you want to listen to for the rest of your life. Jay has never said that to you before and now you never want him to stop.

You manage a watery smile, leaning in until your forehead touches his, “I love you.”

tag list: @talicat713 @nevaehstreater18 @hehurst23 @jesseleesofferupdates @stephanie708 @harleyquinnpuddin @mrspeacem1nusone @nilspettersson @romanogersendgame @gerardssword @the-fan-18 @nobodycanknowus @frenchyjuju @toomuchtv95 @atarmychick007 @imtoanonymousforyou @renataficrecs @ossypooh @haynsey @euphoria257 @hajrakhan @brookerz122493 @sophie10626 @mrshalsteadxx @alexxavicry @itserickalove @livstilinski @sia2raw @bebataylor84 @sande5098 @withakindheartx @i-spaced-sorry @star017 @camillyb @munteanmiss @halsteadloversworld

#jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x you #jay halstead fanfiction #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd fanfiction #gifs are not mine: ask if you would like yours removed

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azsazz · 1 year

Text

Lips of an Angel (Part 2)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Part 2 to Lips of an Angel per the request of many. The OG request came from @eddiesbixch696 : This randomly came to me because the song came on the radio but an absolute angst fest of an Azriel fic based on the song Lips of Angel by Hinder. The whole “my girl is in the next room but sometimes I wish she was you” lyric as he watches Elain. Ugh I love breaking my own heart sometimes 😭

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,512

[Part 1]

_________________________________________

This winter is one of the most bitter he’s experienced in Velaris. Or maybe it’s just him, his feelings as of late, the cold and empty cavern that is his heart without you, his thoughts wandering towards the female he’d left behind for the one who he’d thought would be his end all be all.

He turned out to be so fucking wrong about Elain.

She’s at dinner with the rest of the Inner Circle but Azriel had chosen not to go. She’d begged him, tugged on his arm and gave him that doe-eyed look that normally would have him giving in to any of her demands. Now it just makes him grimace.

He could hardly think about eating with the guilty thoughts swirling through his mind, consuming him completely.

What is wrong with him? He wanted Elain, and he had got it, at the price of hurting you. Azriel hadn’t seen a glimpse of you or heard a whisper about you in years. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were even still in town, how you’re doing now.

He’s been distancing himself as of late, and if the middle Archeron sister has any worries about it, she didn’t voice them to him. It’s hard to be around her when all he does is compare everything she does to you. They way she hugs him with her arms around his neck, staring up into his eyes when you would wrap your arms around his middle and burrow your head into the crook of his neck. The way that she goes on and on, needing to fill any and all silence with stories and anecdotes, whereas with you, the two of you could just enjoy each other’s company, no words needed.

He’d hardly been coming to bed, unable to sleep because of the constant running thoughts of his ex. The drink he usually had was more like a bottle, but did nothing to aid his insomnia. Flying didn’t seem to help either, nor sparring. It’s like all his favorite things had been tainted with the thought of you, in his arms gliding over the city or the smile on your face when you’d landed your first strike on him with the practice sword after six months of giving it your all.

Azriel doubted you’d kept up on your training after he’d ended things.

When he was able to get a few minutes of shut eye it was when he was away and could hold the necklace you’d left behind in his hand. His only reminder that you were ever really his to begin with.

It was the only thing he’d had left of you. You must’ve dropped it behind the dresser some time before you’d cleared the home of your things and he’d found it when Elain had wanted to move the furniture around in his room. Something about a more peaceful mind, if the bed was slid to the wall that didn’t face the door. He’d caught sight of the gleaming metal and tucked it away before she noticed.

He’d tried to regift it. First to Gwyn, because he still wanted to see it, gleaming, wrapped around another pretty neck. He’d gone so far as to give it to Clotho before promptly asking for it back thirty minutes later with crimson cheeks and a heavy heart.

He’d even thought about giving it to Elain for a special occasion. Surely she wouldn’t even know that it used to be yours. He’d imagined mouthing at the pendant hanging between your breasts every time you wore it. He hadn’t had the gall to give it to Elain.

So Azriel had hid it in a secret drawer of his desk after that, promptly forgetting about it because he’d been so enthralled with the breath of fresh air that was Elain.

He doesn't know what he’s doing in the city. Usually he opts for a long flight or time off in a different court, hoping that the warm sun of Summer would burn his feelings away or the fresh breezes of Autumn would clear his head.

But he’s here, shrunk down into his coat because he hadn’t thought to put a hat on, the bitter winds kissing his cheeks and neck annoyingly, and it reminds him of you. Of course it does, because he can’t seem to stop thinking about you, the way you’d always press your freezing fingers up under his shirt for warmth on a cold day.

Azriel’s hair keeps getting blown into his eyes and as much as he tries to shove it back it only slaps right back. He needs to get it cut but doesn’t even have the energy to do that, with everything going on in his mind lately.

He blinks harshly at the tendrils poking his eyes. He stumbles slightly, a strand stuck, and he’s trying to claw at it while grumbling, not quite watching where he’s going because he assumes that everyone will give him a wide berth like they always do–

He runs straight into someone, stumbling back as he frees the piece of hair from his eye. He blinks, an apology already rolling off the tip of his tongue when he realizes exactly who stands before him–

He’d forgotten how perfect you were.

An angel in the flesh.

“Azriel,” you breathe, stunned, and it makes his heart fracture in his chest.

You’re not alone like he wished you would be when he’d thought about all of the times this could happen, should he be so lucky. There’s a child with you, immediately tucking behind your leg at his appearance.

“(Y/N)...It’s really good to hear your voice,” he forces around the thickness in his throat. Saying my name goes unsaid.

Azriel can’t stop looking down at the little boy, hiding behind his mother’s leg. You’ve got a protective hand curled around his thick knit hat, the other clasping a to-go mug of what he scents as hot cocoa from the best bakery in Velaris. The one they used to frequent together, though he always remembered that you were more of a warm cider kind of female. Oh how you’ve changed.

It’s clear the babe is nervous, by the way he keeps tugging on the bottom of your coat. You don’t hesitate, hauling the little boy into your arms even with a hand full.

Azriel’s breath catches and his heart hammers in his chest because there’s tiny wings poking out of the child's fluffy coat.

“This is Wren,” you introduce awkwardly, shifting on your feet anxiously.

He looks closer now, noting how he’s around three or four, from what he can tell, and his heart aches because surely there is only one explanation for this. There's a burning in his chest, even though he knows he shouldn’t feel this way, that he’d moved on even quicker.

Those eyes…

Azriel’s brows furrow, his mouth parting but no words come out. His mind is whirling because Wren’s eyes are a mirror of his own and the longer he looks the more he can see himself in the child. The natural downturn of his mouth, almost apathetic in appearance, his wide eyes, lids lowered a touch over his perfectly round irises - the most stoic child he’s ever seen.

His eyes are glued to the small boy. He has your nose, your ruddy cheeks that nearly give every emotion you’re feeling away. Your cheeks are red right now, in fact. He’s sure that if he tugged the hat off of the child’s head all he’d see is inky black hair.

“Is he–”

There’s no way he’s not.

You’re quick to intervene, pressing your wrist over the boy's ear and leaning his head into your shoulder, blocking out your response from his tiny ears. “Yes, he is.”

Everything freezes. The snow fluttering down pauses its tracks, the wind is no longer a nuisance brushing the back of his neck with cold fingers, all of the sounds of the bustling city are drowned out by the ringing in his ears.

His hand twitches, lifting as if to touch the child, make sure he’s real, maybe pull that hat off after all. He knows that you’re telling the truth, you were never one to lie about anything, would rather suffer the consequences than talk your way out of it.

But this…

You turn, shifting away from the hand that’s reaching out.

Azriel flinches, arm falling back to his side. He physically cannot look anywhere else besides his son, who seems perfectly content in your arms, head shoved where your neck meets your shoulder. His gloved fingers clutch tightly to your jacket but his wide hazel eyes stay locked on male in front of him.

A punch in the gut is all he feels as he nearly collapses under the child’s gaze. He can feel his heart beating in his chest, the pulse that has his neck throbbing. There’s a dull ache inside of him, a numb feeling humming around his hollow chest where he wishes your mating bond would lie. Countless nights he’d prayed to the Mother to tether the two of you together - each night had without answer.

He never prays for Elain.

“He doesn’t know,” you admit, and it burns your throat like acid. You hadn’t had the guts to tell Wren that his father had broken your heart into a million pieces a few nights before you found out that you were pregnant.

You hadn’t had the heart to tell Azriel either.

Hadn’t thought it necessary, as he was perfectly happy with Elain while you were slowly putting yourself back together for the babe growing inside of you. You were determined not to let Azriel affect your life from then on, and it had been hard, but you’d finally gotten that feeling shoved so deep down inside of you you could pretend that you were okay, for Wren.

You hadn’t been expecting to run into Azriel ever again, and now that he’s standing in front of you, that part of your chest has been blown wide open.

He nearly looks the same as he did that night years ago. Hair disheveled from the winds, never thinking to bring a hat with him when his mind was awry, like he didn’t deserve to be warm. His eyes had dark rings around them much like they do now, the hazel color shroud by shadows, like the ones wrapped around his legs, the same way Wren had cuddled into yours before you’d picked him up.

His lips are chapped from the cold and even from beneath his thick coat you can tell that he hasn’t been eating well, sleeping either. Something awful must be going on.

He’d seemed so much happier with Elain that day he left.

You don’t have the heart to wonder what must have happened.

But as much as you want to ask, it’s no longer your place. You shouldn’t care about the male before you, eyes looking so painfully similar to your sons, it was hard not to think about Azriel every time you looked at Wren, even with the wings to match.

He nods once, finally breaking contact with the mini version of himself. He swallows and it hurts, there’s a lump of emotion caught in his throat because he hadn’t been prepared to run into you out and about in the city after years of not seeing you, but now he has a child. A child that doesn’t know him from the next male walking down the street.

He’s not sure what to say, what he can say. I’m sorry doesn’t seem good enough. I still love you won’t have an effect on the female who surely doesn’t believe that could be true.

He startles when a figure draws closer. He had been so caught up in what was going on before him that he hadn’t noticed the approaching male or heard his shadows repeating the information to him.

The male stops next to you, catching your attention with a hand on your lower back. He immediately senses something wrong when you look up at him with a forced smile. His mouth turns into a frown, emerald gaze taking in the shadowsinger standing across from you, immediately recognizing him.

“Azriel,” and there’s your fucking perfect mouth speaking his name. His heart still leaps in his chest when you do, and he wonders how he ever could’ve been so stupid as to choose Elain over you. “This is Malik.”

The man nods at him, eyes sparking with an emotion that’s gone before even Azriel can pick it up, so he responds the same, tilting his head but offering no words to the male who’s stepped up beside you.

He watches the male beside you with his spymaster’s eye. The one that’s kissed your cheek and has a hand caressing your back, when it should be him who’s doing that. It should be him who Wren is reaching out to.

“Daddy,” Wren smiles, and Azriel’s heart twists in his chest, splits down the center at the utter confidence in his son’s voice, claiming this male to be his father.

Malik is…handsome, Azriel supposes, in his own way.

Azriel studies him and finds that the male his son is calling his father looks quite similar to him. Dark hair shoved under a matching knit cap, thick lashes dusted with snow, fluttering over his piercing green eyes. Instead of lines around his mouth from centuries of frowning he has them by his eyes, like he’s the happiest male on the planet.

If he’s truly with (Y/N), he is.

“Would you mind giving us a minute, Malik?” you request gently, passing the babe over. The male gives you a soft smile that makes the fire in Azriel’s stomach grow. He watches Malik lean down to press a chaste kiss on your cheek, and Azriel doesn’t miss the way that you lean into it before flinching back, turning your guilty gaze on him like he’d just caught you cheating.

No, it had been the other way around, hadn’t it?

“Mommy?” Wren questions with a glance towards Azriel. He stretches his wings out behind him and Azriel’s eyes prick with emotion, seeing wings so little.

Wren is already so much like his father, with his dark hair and pouty frown, gleaming eyes and controlled temper. But those tiny wings hurt you that much more.

A not so subtle reminder to Azriel of all of the flaws he passed down to his son. Never a babe with Elain, though. The children he used to imagine all had your eyes and smile, your calming aura and beautiful laugh. He’d never thought his son would be a spitting image of him, with his hair, his eyes, his nose, his wings.

“I’ll be right there baby,” you reassure, passing your cup of cocoa to Malik. Azriel watches the brush of your fingers against his and his throat clogs with emotion. The skin of his hand is flawless, smooth and stretching across muscle and bone, nothing like his, marred with callouses and scars.

“It was nice to meet you, Azriel,” Malik says in that low voice, one that Azriel would feel like is completely genuine if he weren’t kissing his (Y/N) and holding his son.

“Likewise,” he answers stiffly because he doesn’t want to upset you. He’d done enough of that.

Wren doesn’t say anything as they depart, keeping his big hazel eyes on Azriels. They widen slightly when his gaze brushes over his wings but he’s not as impressed as Azriel would’ve thought, and he doesn’t know why the response doesn’t sit well with him.

“I know you must have a lot of questions,” you begin when they’re out of earshot.

“I do.”

“And I know that,” you murmur, squeezing your eyes shut for a breath while you twist your fingers together. You’re nervous. Hadn’t planned on telling him ever, and now that he’s seen Wren up close there’s no denying it now.

Of course you’d thought this day might come, but now, every scenario you’d thought thorough in your head disappears.

“He doesn’t know,” Azriel states again because all of this seems like a dream gone rogue. He wonders if he’s somehow slipped into an unconscious state, a lucid dream perhaps, which didn’t seem unlikely because he hasn’t been sleeping lately.

“No,” you agree, “And I don’t want him to.”

His head snaps up, mouth parted in disbelief. He’s ready to argue, slipping so easily back into the way he was right before he’d ended things, emotional and utterly a wreck.

You speak before any words can escape, “Whatever it is you’re going to say, don’t. You have no say in my son's life. You gave that up when you gave me up.”

“I didn’t even know you were pregnant.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

Azriel stays silent.

Your voice is thick when you respond and he hates that he’s made you feel like this again.

“Exactly.”

He doesn’t even know what to say. There are so many questions racing through his mind he doesn’t even know where to start so he just blurts out the first thought his tongue grabs onto.

“Who’s going to teach him to fly?”

“Rhys said that he would,” you answer, and the flicker of anger that cuts across his eyes tells you that he hadn’t been aware his brother knew he had a child. The muscle in his jaw ticks and his shadows sweep around his feet now, just like they always do when he’s upset. “He’s taking care of us.”

Azriel needs to calm down, he knows he does, but he feels completely blindsided by his own brother right now that he doesn’t know what to do. He’s torn between winnowing right up to the River House to give Rhys a piece of his mind or jumping up into the air to release all of the rage and sadness that’s consumed him tenfold.

He’s taking care of us.

Azriel should be the one taking care of you.

“He knows?” His voice is deathly calm and it sends shivers up your spine.

It’s why Wren didn’t look impressed by his wings. Because he has seen Rhys’ before.

His shadows are whipping around erratically and Malik takes notice, questioning your safety with a single look.

You reassure you’re okay with a nod and he relaxes slightly, letting Wren to the ground when the little boy squirms in his grasp.

Azriel watches how the male places his hands on his son’s shoulders, holding him in place.

“I asked him not to tell you,” you admit wetly, “Begged him, really.”

He’s brewing.

“Don’t,” your voice is stern, not liking how he’s stewing. “Don’t you blame him. It was my choice.”

“And what about my choice?”

Your mouth goes slack, “Your choice in what?”

“This,” he roars because he can’t take it anymore. His shadows flare around him, a wall of darkness sweeping up from the ground to his shoulders.

Wren screams, pushing away from Malik and rushing over to where you’re facing off with Azriel.

“Mommy!”

The utter terror in the little boys voice makes Azriel’s spine straighten and his stomach churn.

Wren’s on him in an instant, little fists shoving and hitting his thighs. It shouldn’t have the slightest effect on him but it does. He’s defending his mother because some strange male has raised his voice at her.

Each point of contact is a stake to his heart. Azriel stands helplessly, watching the little boy go at him until you’re crouching down and pulling him away, Malik pressing behind you with his hands on your arms and a glare in Azriel’s direction.

You look up from where you’re hugging Wren tightly to your chest that’s throbbing painfully, heart racing from something akin to fear, something you’d never felt for Azriel before. There’s tears brimming in your eyes from the sight, from the conversation. He’d never raised his voice at you like this.

This male…you don’t even know who he is anymore.

Your voice shakes when you speak, “You don’t get a choice, Azriel. You lost that a long time ago and you know that.” Your eyes wash over him, up and down. He nearly melts, when venom laces your voice, despite the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “You made that choice.”

“(Y/N),” he reaches out to try and stop as you stand, lifting Wren into your arms again. You shrink away from him.

“I have to go,” you mutter, allowing Malik to usher you and your son away from the stewing Illyrian. You’d always been able to fight for yourself, even without the training. Malik surely knows that, but it still disgusts Azriel how he’s done nothing to defend you.

Azriel turns to look at the babe one last time. He’s stood frozen, head hung and snow falling into the back of his jacket like a fool, watching the love of his life walk away from him again, but this time, he’s the one who’s heartbroken.

#Azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel x you #azriel/you #part 2 #azsazz #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acotarxreader #dad!azriel #wren alternate timeline #dad!azriel au #daddyaz #azriel angst

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tarottsi · 5 months

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blood helps roses grow in winter —Retired! Simon Riley & sunshine reader

nsfw | bloody injuries | s.a | hurt/comfort | corruption

retired! simon riley who lives in this one mattress on the floor, barely maintained apartment. he’s not to keen on upgrading on new furniture. it won’t rid of the nightmares. it won’t rid him of the mind throbbing headaches. the only good part of living here, instead of settling in some quiet country side, was his neighbor.

if sunshine was a person, it would be you. those warm smiles. the way you walk with a cool breeze in every step. the way you laugh like flowers could bloom at every note. he was one of the many people who appreciates your presence. neighbors from other floors make it a habit to greet you in the morning as you head for a jog.

retired! simon riley who goes for a jog too. not in a stalker way (he tells himself). you just head on the same direction, same time, same place, as him. always. and you’re either stupid to not notice a bulky 6’4ft man behind you, or you know that it’s him so you feel safe.

it’s always those cute baby pink jogger clothes too. the sun cap with a floral design. and you move with a spring on your step towards the city park. towards the pink bushes of hydrangeas by the benches near the lake, almost everyday like clockwork. she caught him one time, his hands on his knees as the years of life threatening mission took a toll on his body. you slowed down to the same pace as him, making sure they could reach the peak of the hill together.

“do you want some water?” you offer to him. the sun on your back was the hallo glowing from your ethereal kindness. he took the bottle. taking the chance to place his lips where you places yours. an indirect kiss, he prays.

from then on, they would head to the park. side by side, he can see that you aren’t as young a you look. the crows feet and wrinkles on your skin were proof of the earth’s toll on you. the angelic image he made was shattered. you were human. you had flesh he can sink his teeth into. bits and bits of you, he loved the more as he could connect himself with you.

and he saw the signs clearly one early morning in the late december frost. the days were getting shorter, while more and more people yearned for the warmth of the flesh. he wasn’t meant to see it, the rose colored lenses he wore turned cherry red as he saw you on top of a man, heaving and bruised.

swing after swing, the flowers in your sun cap was drenched from the man’s blood. your fist curled in perfect form. a single tooth sent flying, making you turn to see simon. your eyes widened as you lay over the criminal as a champion.

the pink top simon liked was torn from your shoulder, an evidence of a fight or the man under had dragged you by the shoulder to the the alley.

and before realization hits you, that you had toppled a man taller than your size. simon picks you up to ease you from the traumatic incident. he scans you from head to toe, asking when, where, who, and why this as happened (an s.o.p habit of his as a soldier) before he calms you down. breath in. breath out.

you had five light puncture wounds from your shoulders. you were shaking from both the cold and fear after being assaulted, but you held your ground.

nothing makes him love you more than to see you marred, reliant and vicious. the same image only sinners like him could adore.

a/n: i love to see more of older y/n in fics. y/n here is in the mid-30’s and simon in his mid 40’s. oh yeah, blood actually helps roses grow but it can only be done once or twice a year (during winter!). any more than that and it harms the roses.

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #yandere! simon riley #yandere! ghost #tarot thoughts 💭

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venus-haze · 1 year

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Secret Identity!Homelander x Reader Headcanons

Note: Gender neutral but mildly fem-coded reader, and no descriptors are used. This is inspired by the throwaway line from season 1 where Homelander mentions having a secret identity, but not keeping it for long, so I imagine it’d have been in the 2000s when he was in his 20s. My brain really latched onto the idea, and this is the result. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Warnings: Voyeurism, relationship under false pretenses, obsessive and disturbing behavior. Do not interact if you're under 18.

• Your new neighbor moves into the apartment next door seemingly overnight, but luckily you have a box of brownie mix and some powdered sugar tucked away in your cupboard and decide to make some as a ‘welcome to the building’ gesture

• His name is John, and he apologizes in advance if he wakes you up with his coming and going since he works odd, inconsistent hours as a crime reporter for a small, independent newspaper

• You notice the Indiana University logo embroidered on his sweatshirt and cheerfully say, “Hey, you’re a Hoosier! I’m sure you’re already working on your March Madness bracket.” He nods along as if he understands what the fuck you’re talking about. The two of you continue small talk until you make your leave back to your place. He goes to his computer, groaning at his choice of Indiana as his home state when he doesn’t know anything about basketball, let alone March Madness and brackets

• Over the next week or so, he realizes just how unprepared he is for living on his own, but luck’s on his side, because he hardly has to worry about doing much cooking or cleaning himself when you’re constantly inviting him over for dinner and offering to bring his clothes over to the laundromat with yours since you “know he’s so busy with work”

• Sometimes he has trouble keeping his backstory straight, though he is at least able to bullshit his way through your questions about college and basketball. That doesn’t faze you at first, as he keeps you enraptured with his inside scoop on crime in the city. You’re none the wiser as to how he knows the intimate details of some of the cases, under the impression that he’s just a great reporter

• He keeps tabs on you from afar, Homelander doing quick fly-bys of the area where you work just to make sure everything’s okay. He was raised to be a hero, after all. When you’re alone in your apartment, however, he has no shame in looking through your walls and listening in on what you’re up to. He knows everything about you, the type of music you listen to, the TV shows you watch, the food you go for when you wake up for a midnight snack, that you call your best friend every Thursday night at nine, no detail is too minute for him

• One evening, he decides to take a closer look at your place while you’re in the shower, until he looks through the bathroom wall and feels his mouth go dry at the sight of you. He slips his hand down his pants, and, well, what you don’t know won’t hurt you. It becomes a habit, his guilty pleasure of getting himself off whenever you’re naked in your apartment

• To you, though, he’s still your hot neighbor-friend John, who your coworkers have been pestering you to make a move on, telling you that it sounds like he’s straight from a Hallmark movie. You’re reluctant, but you start to consider something with John when you mention wanting to get rid of some of your older, worn-out furniture and buy new stuff and lament having to pay a company to move. He volunteers to help you during the weekend

• It’s almost funny how he pretends to struggle to move the furniture when he could rearrange your entire apartment without breaking a sweat. He seems to be a good actor, though, because he notices your forehead creased with worry as you watch him move a couch himself. He likes your eyes on him for a change, and though he flexes his muscles every chance he gets, the concern awakens something in him. It’s nothing less than calculated when he “accidentally” drops the couch, pretending to hurt his arm in the process

• You’re frantic as you rush to his side to inspect the damage. Of course there’s no bruising, a truck would have to land on him for that to happen. Still, you gingerly touch his arm and he pretends to hiss in pain. You disappear into the kitchen, only to return with a bag of frozen vegetables in your hand and guilt etched across your features

• “John, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” you ask, brushing his hair from his face, and it takes everything in him not to lean into your touch as he assures you he’ll be fine. The furniture moving project is over for the night, and you order a pizza and let him pick a movie to watch. Your movie collection is almost foreign to him, having been raised on a carefully curated selection of propaganda and clean American classics. He picks Dirty Dancing on a whim, and it proves to be a good choice as you gush over how much you love the movie

• For the first time in his life, he indulges in greasy junk food and cheesy movies, feeling that pang in his heart again as he watches the romance unfold on screen, the one weakness he could never quite get over, loneliness. He notices how as the movie progresses, you end up curled up against him. He furrows his eyebrows, wondering to himself if it’s actually a date all along, and from the way you keep glancing at his lips, only to bashfully look away when he catches you staring confirms that

• He can hear your erratic heartbeat and decides to just go for it, stealing a kiss from you in the middle of the movie. From then on, you’re dating, and suddenly this persona of his becomes far more complicated than he anticipated. You make him happier than he’s ever been in his life. He wants to keep you incredibly close, both of your respective free time consumed by each other, even while he’s Homelander, unbeknownst to you

• John may as well be your dream boyfriend in the beginning of your relationship, attentive and romantic, bringing you to a nearby park on your first official date for a picnic and to try the famous Dirty Dancing lift scene. “Let’s at least try!” he insists. “I’ll catch you.” Despite your hesitations since he’d hurt his arm moving your furniture just a few days ago, he catches you with an almost unbelievable ease on the first try, to your delight. “I’ve always wanted to do that!” you laugh as he sets you down, pulling him in for a kiss

• He buys you elaborate floral bouquets and increasingly expensive gifts, to the point where you wonder how the hell he has that kind of money as a reporter unless he gets paid off by the same criminals he’s supposed to be reporting on. Sometimes he’s troublingly jealous or says things that unsettle you, but you assume it’s because of the line of work he’s in, being exposed to the worst of people. Besides, whenever you get even the slightest bit nervous by his words or actions, he seems to know just when to swoop in and calm you down

• Definitely has no concept of personal space or normal sleep schedules. You’re the first non-Vought affiliated person he’s ever had any kind of relationship with. It’s intense and things move pretty fast, like "I love you on the third date" fast. He idealizes you a lot. Emotionally you’re stretched thin by having to fill the role of lover, parent, best friend, confidant silly rabbit

• Date nights at your place are comforting and domestic, but going out is always an adventure with him. His lack of knowledge of generally getting around New York is downright strange since he reports on crimes all over the city. Not to mention, people do double-takes when they see him, as if they recognize him from somewhere but then figure otherwise. It happens way too often to be a coincidence, though

• Sex with John can also be unpredictable, passionate and loving to intense and almost painful. He’s into some weird stuff and doesn’t have the best etiquette when it comes to his kinks. Not to mention his stamina is almost inhuman, and when you comment as much after he fucks you the fourth time in under two hours, his response is strange, to say the least. You chalk it up to years of sexual repression that he maybe didn't get out during his college years

• Still, he supports and adores you, so you can deal with the frustration and emotional exhaustion when he knocks on your door at eleven at night, letting out a dramatic sigh as he flops on your couch and you take the cue to ask him how his day was. You know there’s something he’s keeping from you, but you decide not to push it. He’s just as interested in your everyday life, hell, he wants you to bother him with the mundane stuff. That’s what boyfriends are for, anyway. You have no idea of what his true identity is, yet you still love him

• It can’t last forever, though, because you work late one evening, so he decides to check up on you, just to be safe. The scene he descends on is almost too perfect, the type of scenario he’d seen played out in the Vought-branded Payback cartoons he watched growing up. Still, seeing the man so much as pointing the knife in your direction as he demands you hand over your money and valuables almost makes Homelander lose control

• He lands in between you and the man, who takes a nervous step back. “Not so brave now, huh, buddy?” Homelander scoffs, grabbing the man’s wrist and snapping it, the knife falling to the ground as he screams in pain, clutching his broken wrist

• The situation becomes even more nightmarish as you watch America’s fresh-faced hero push your attempted assailant onto his knees, a cruel gleam in his eyes and sneer on his lips as he grabs the man’s head and twists. You can’t bare to watch, gagging when you hear a distinct snap followed by the crunching of bones

• Homelander turns to you, taking you into his arms for what’s supposed to be a comforting embrace, “It’s alright now. You’re safe with me, babe”

• Your brain pretty much short circuits as you realize your boyfriend John is actually the most powerful superhero who ever lived, and you just witnessed him break a man’s neck like it was a toothpick

• Naturally, you pass out, right into his blood-covered hands. He presses a kiss to your forehead and takes off for Vought Tower. No need to pretend anymore, right?

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander headcanons #homelander imagine #the boys x reader #the boys headcanons #the boys tv #the boys amazon #'headcanons' this is long enough to be a fic but fuck it we ball

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